"Fweddie," said the Little Boy.
"No, no!" cried Toby. "Try it again, now. Say Freddie!"
"Toby," said Aunt Amanda, "shut up. Freddie, I haven't any little boy, and I don't get out very much, and I'd like you to come and see me sometimes. Would you like to do that?"
Freddie stared at her, and said, "Yes'm."
"I hope you will, often. Be sure you do. I suppose you don't like gingerbread? Toby."
The little hunchback went out briskly through a back door and returned with a slice of gingerbread. "Baked today," said his aunt. "But what time is it? Quarter to six. Too near suppertime. You mustn't eat it now, Freddie. Toby, wrap it up."
Toby went into the shop and returned with a paper sack, and putting the gingerbread into it gave it to Freddie.
"Now," said Aunt Amanda, "take it home with you and eat it after supper. Will you come to see me?"
"Yes'm," said Freddie as if he meant it. You couldn't get gingerbread at home between meals every day in the week.